Axis Of Attraction
by TheLongRoadHome
Summary: One spontaneous visit and a beer later, Seifer finds himself out cold and in prison, and his only visitor is one Commander Leonhart, What could possibly go right? SeiferxSquall yaoi
1. Impulse

Axis of Attraction

Warning: This will probably contain smut in later chapters…that's if I ever get around to finishing it…it will be hunky manry man on feminine peachy-butt man sex, and if you don't like it! Don't read it! If you do then good for you!

Whatever possessed me to adopt this style, I have no idea.

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII and all associated yada yada yada. And if I did Seifer and Squall would be having kinky sex in every cutscene. ALL OF THEM.

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><p>Seifer was a man who had grown, over many months of living the shady life, to hate crowds. Seifer also, as it happens, was a man who hated being told what to do. And naturally, being the infamous, great, Seifer Almasy, Sorceress knight and ass-kicker extraordinaire, he also hated regretting any decisions he made.<p>

So of course, when he was being told to 'go fuck himself' by a bar full of people, and began to regret his decision to have a quiet weekend drink, near Balamb fucking Garden of all places, he was not best pleased.

Of course, that didn't account for his rather spontaneous visit. Nor did it account for the ironic coincidence that Balamb's annual festival had decided to explode onto the streets the weekend he decided to pay such a flying visit. Nor did that account for the fact that the whole fiesta had ruined his plans to drop by Garden to scare all the newbies, bust a few asses, flirt with some of the female cadets, have a drink with Fuu and Rai, and then waltz off before Leonhart and his groupies could get their fingers out their—

"Fucking scumbag! He's got some balls showing his face round here." Some unfortunate male poser swaggered past, and tripped right over Seifer's train of thought, or rather, tripped over Seifer's outstretched foot as he smirked behind his beer.

The dude however, was totally right. He did have pretty big balls.

As the guy squirmed off the floor, glaring at the ex-knight with a mixture of fear and anger, most of the women in the bar suppressed a giggle, while the men either backed off or puffed up their chests and looked down their noses at him. None dared approach, which only made Seifer's smirk widen. The Almasy charm hadn't lost its edge. With any luck he might get laid tonight. It had been a while. Don't believe anyone when they tell you that being bad gets you laid, it's a lie, especially when you're as bad as Seifer.

He sniffed, resting his elbows on the bar and facing the crowd that was staring shamelessly at him. Not his usual sort of haunt, this was the area of town where the posturers and 'hipsters' hung out, whatever that meant. The reasoning behind Seifer's occupation of this particular pub was more to do with its lack of candyfloss pink festival decorations. Obviously the Barbie brigade had hijacked the festival committee this year, and Seifer was already sick to the back teeth of the colour pink.

The more he stared the more the people around him cowered. Of course it was only natural, no one in their right mind would pick a fight with the great Seifer Almasy, despite the fact he was after a challenge—

"Seifey? Is that you?" Ah, damn that bitch called coincidence, though he hadn't meant _that_ kind of challenge. Seifer gave a despairing look toward the entrance of the tavern and clapped eyes on the petite brunette woman. Of all the fights fate could have picked for him, he did not want bundle-of-everlasting-energy-Leonhart-groupie Selphie Tilmitt. But hey, if one girl had the guts to approach him, maybe that pretty blonde in the corner might think him advancable. Hyne knew he liked a woman with a curve.

"The one and only." Seifer smirked at the bouncy girl. She hadn't changed in the slightest; apart from her teeny-weeny yellow dress thing had been swapped for beige shorts and an equally painful yellow tank top. Same flippy hair, same enthusiastic eyes and childishly cute face and the same beaming smile. She had her nunchaku in her back pocket too, which was probably a bad sign, and a reminder of how contradictory Selphie's size and Selphie's strength was. He also found it difficult to raise Hyperion to the girl, for some reason that would sound too much like brotherly affection for him to be comfortable with. All in all, a very bad combination.

"Seifey!" She bounded over, throwing her arms around his neck for a few fleeting seconds before leaping off him and giving him the usual Selphie inspection. "You should've called ahead and let us know you were coming!" She pouted.

"So puberty boy could have an armed battalion of SeeD ready waiting for me as a welcome party?" He threw back his head and gave a deep laugh. "Thanks but no fucking way."

She nearly leapt on him again, had it not been for a strategically placed Seifer hand on her forehead. He was damn glad she had short arms, and after much wriggling trying to glean another hug off him, she eventually relented and stood back.

"You haven't changed at all Seifer, still as proud as Squall." Seifer promptly spat out his beer. It took him 2 seconds to give a sharp glare at Selphie, and another 5 to down his pint. The next 10 seconds were spent walking to the door and barging people out the way in the busy festival crowd. Those were well-spent seconds.

"Hey! Seifey? What's up?" He could her the little woman bounding after him. Quite frankly, Squall 'ice-princess' Leonhart was the one person he didn't want to be compared with, someone who was incapable of showing any emotion, being social, having fun, feeling love. Hell, Seifer was pretty sure the Balamb commander pissed snow he was so cold.

Wait, what? Did he just think love? Seriously? What kind of Disney happily-ever-after crap had he been watching to think that Leonhart and Love could ever go in the same damn sentence. He did have a fine ass though. If that had been on a woman Seifer would have bedded her ten times before she could say 'fuck me'.

Wait? What? Did he just think of Squall's rather attractive ass? And why was he getting a strong sense of déjà vu? Wait? What? 'Attractive ass'? Hyne, he must be desperate. What? It's true…it was all peachy and firm looking…

Seifer, unfortunately hadn't been looking here he was going, and had come to a stop in an alleyway. It had gotten very dark since he'd been in the bar, and barely any light reached round the corner. Something niggled in the back of Seifer's mind. Hyne, what's wrong? Something was saying danger. The snake in pants was saying 'fuck yes' to Squalls ass. A very big part of his brain was agreeing with the snake in his pants. Seriously? What the hell is wrong—?

"Seifey? You…okay?" He barely noticed the petite lady poking him repeatedly, or the fact they were completely alone… or even the nunchaku that was being readied by said petite woman. Seifer scowled. Balamb was blatantly fucking with his head. Time to get out. He turned, and his face said a big Hi to the end of a nunchaku by way of a loud crunch. His back also said hello to the pavement.

Ouch. The world spun a bit and went black.

Balamb was definitely a shit idea.

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><p>"For Hyne's sake, tell Zell I'll <em>pay<em> him in hot dogs if he'll just teach this one damn class." He paused a second, listening to the whining voice down the phone. "I don't have time for this. If you get desperate, offer him a share in the sausage company." Squall slammed the phone down and massaged the bridge of his nose. Commander Leonhart abhorred phone conversations. The only thing he hated more than conversations was—

The phone rang.

He very nearly got up on the desk and sat on the damn thing. Who was he kidding, he was nowhere near doing that, but it felt slightly better thinking of it. Instead he lifted the thing to his ear and grunted, picking up the pen and trying to work and converse (or what little talk he did offer) at the same time.

"Uh, Squally?" A meek voice, which was uncharacteristic of Selphie, whispered down the receiver. "Don't get angry with me, okay?"

Squall's eyes narrowed. "What now?" Was the rather sharp, dubious answer.

"I-think-I-may-have-just-killed-Seifer."

Squall dropped his pen. "What?"

"Uh. Seifer. Dead. Me. Kill him." He could practically hear Selphie cringing down the phone.

Well that's a shock. The ex-knight had a bounty on his head for more money than Squall knew what to do with, he just hoped that the warrants didn't specify alive or dead. Of course, it had been two years since anyone had heard or seen anything of him, which was odd considering Seifer's physical traits and obnoxious personality. On a second guess, he just supposed Seifer kicked the ass of anyone who got in his way. Yeah, that sounded much more like Seifer. Subtle and silent certainly shouldn't go in the same sentence as his name, no matter how good the alliteration sounded.

Squall fought back a pang of sadness. Perhaps if you looked deep into the back of Squall's mind there was a small part of him that wanted one last teeny tiny fight with the blonde asshole, maybe even one last static fuelled conversation, but of course, that was utter nonsense. Why would stoic commander Leonhart ever want such a petty thing as a fight when his alternative was filling out paperwork all day? Hyne damn it, paperwork was tedious.

"Where?" He curtly addressed Selphie.

"Around the back of the Sickly Crab bar…I was only looking for Irvine when I bumped into him! I really didn't mean to kill him! I was only going to knock him out but he turned around so suddenly and BAM! There he is dead." Selphie broke out into a hysterical little giggle. And then proceeded to bawl her eyes out.

…Crying people. Another of Squall's pet hates. He just didn't know what to do or say to people when they're crying. And—

Wait…Seifer's really dead?

No way.

"We'll come and get you. Stay put." Squall heard Selphie sniff in the affirmative and put the phone down, just as Quistis walked into the room.

"Squall? What happened? You look…scared." The Blond woman ventured. She held a bacon sandwich in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. More food he'd never have time to eat. His face became stony again at the mention of fear.

"Selphie's just killed Seifer. Let's go." He rose quickly and nearly fell back over again from getting up too fast. He definitely needed more time in the training centre. His body had gone to pot.

Quistis looked like she'd been asked for six fire-breathing gymnastic newts.

It was going to be a very long night.

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><p>Chapter one! Not much happens and there's no smut. But my god, so fun to write. Do tell me what you think?<p> 


	2. Visitation

More crazy wonders from Squall and Seifer! Apologies for the late chapter, but I bring you a nice and long Chapter of non-smutty, much swearingy pre-love from the men themselves, so please forgive me ^^' Apologies to any animal lovers out there either, just a little dead rodent...nothing to worry about...for you that is~I apologize in advance for any mistakes made, please feel free to point them out or flame my generally bad composition to your hearts content! As I say, this is purely for fun, and should not be taken seriously...if you want to live D

*ahem* I don't own these sexy individuals, or final fantasy VIII, otherwise it would look like something akin to y!gallery.

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><p>Squall pinched the bridge of his nose. Selphie sobbed into Quistis' blouse. Squall pinched harder. Selphie started howling as Quistis cast a curaga on the body laid out in the alleyway. Squall pinched even harder. Seifer grunted and sat up. Squall couldn't pinch any harder, and instead settled for hissing out a sleep spell and ordering Selphie to get her mess to the Garden's prison without anyone seeing. Seifer flopped back onto the alley floor.<p>

"Selphie. He's alive. Stop crying." Quistis rubbed her back soothingly.

Squall felt a buzz vibrate at his thigh. More fucking phone calls, on top of having to deal with the idiot ex-knight, a bossy head teacher and a bawling instructor and the only thing that could possibly add to his stress was a large boisterous social event where he was expected to schmooze with the guests.

He lifted the phone to his ear. "Squall? Where are you? Did you forget about the ball?" He inwardly groaned. Like he needed reminding. "The new SeeD want to meet you, and I want my dance~!" Rinoa chirped through the earpiece. Bloody fantastic. Just what the overworked Commander needed. A demanding sorceress, a huge crowd all wanting to be pleased and an obnoxious, unconscious Blonde bastard with a penchant for delinquency. Life was just sodding peachy.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He managed to sigh before snapping the phone shut. He had become increasingly irritable with Rinoa, who after the war had expected him to be buying her presents and whispering sweet nothings at her all the long day, forgetting he had his new duty as commander to attend to. He probably wouldn't have felt quite so frustrated had he understood how to please her in the first place; one area which he did envy Seifer for, as the blond did have a way with people, even if that way was sometimes insufferable and over the top. The fact was, Squall didn't know what to do with Rinoa. One minute she was fine and the next minute she would fly off the hook, claiming that he didn't care. He did care, it's just he knew he'd never understand what she wanted from him, and whatever shred of romantic love he'd felt for her was quickly being torn apart by sharp manicured nails. He'd never be able to give her what she wanted, simply because he didn't understand her.

The commander willed himself back to work, waiting until Selphie had stopped crying and the two ladies were ready and had everything they needed in order to deal with Seifer, before striding back to garden to get changed into his uniform. He hoped people would leave him well alone. He hoped people would not keep buying him drinks or asking him to dance. It was too much to hope for, by all means, as by the time he'd gotten to the ballroom door, he'd already been offered a drink three times, asked to dance twice, and talked to by every passing person littering the hallways. By the time he'd got through the ballroom door all his hopes had been shattered, as he'd been practically mugged by Rinoa, dragged to the bar as everyone watched whilst he awkwardly downed a shot of whiskey, then hauled onto the dance floor, suddenly feeling every critical eye in the room on him. He remembered the dances well enough, and with his timing and agility in battle he needed very little practice to get the hang of them.

Rinoa grabbed both his hands, smiling sweetly. "Ready Squall?" He didn't bother replying; knowing that he'd never be ready or willing for this kind of pompous exercise, and only participated because it was expected of him. Other couples joined in, clearly not wanting to be outshone by 'Fantastic Rinoa and her Commander Leonhart', as Quistis had put it, or rather, had spat it.

The music began, a slow waltzing melody, to which Squall immediately twirled Rinoa, making he dress swish out and most of the men in the room stare at her legs. There was one thing he was sure of; the sorceress liked to be shown off. She smiled sweetly at him, and she directed him with her eyes. Squall's mind, however, was elsewhere.

What had been running through that Blond idiot's mind when he decided to return to Balamb? Squall was certain Seifer wasn't here to sight-see. And definitely not to hand himself in, so why on earth would he have risked it when everyone was out to get him? Why jump into the lion's den? And what kind of idiot-fuck-faced-mug would let them get downed by Selphie _even_ when she was off duty and- _Not relevant_, Squall's mind told him. And what was he going to do about the press when they found out Seifer had been caught? There would be a media sandstorm, and lord only knew what the reporters would throw at them this time. Would the governments carry out their death sentence? Squall gulped, strangely disliking the idea of the Knight's murder. _Murder?_ He sounded almost _sympathetic_ for the blond. _It's the drink. It's all the drink._ Mind you, Squall knew very well that Seifer had been under the influence of Ultimecia, he wasn't how sure how far she'd fucked him over, but it couldn't have been just Seifer. The knight was too proud. He wouldn't have tortured Squall in the manner that he did normally, preferring to stick to the knight's code (albeit with some barefaced cheating) of going up against your opponent on equal terms.

He absentmindedly twirled Rinoa again, who giggled, seemingly pleased with his performance, despite the distracted thoughts. He realized that he'd probably been staring at her whilst pondering, making it look like he was some kind of doe-eyed admirer of the 'beauty' in front of him. Apparently she was beautiful. Squall had never bothered to look. What attracted his attention was normally a persons force of character, which was probably why Seifer—_Oh, not now. Concentrate on dancing. _

The music changed to some sort of up-temp tango rhythm, and Squall stalked away before his partner could get any stupid ideas abut some raunchy dance routine that would give her gloating rights for a year. Squall had been in the room a total of four minutes. He was already wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

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><p>*Musical interlude*<p>

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><p>Two rather short dances and another shot later, Squall had enough, and made some excuse about needing the toilet. He nearly screamed when Rinoa offered to escort him, like he was some sort of pet needing to be taken out for 'pee-pee time'. It ended with him stalking off in a direction away from the noise, trying so hard to knead away his headache with his fingers and not paying the slightest attention to where he was going.<p>

He sat down heavily on the nearest available bench, wallowing in the peaceful silence of the corridor, and the cold hard wall on his head, numbing his brain a little. He relaxed a little. No jabbering guests, foul smelling liquor, boisterous women or—

"Commander Leonhart, Sir!" Squall nearly hit the ceiling. He must have been falling asleep a bit there. A SeeD Sergeant stood saluting him dutifully; uniform askew, hair at a jaunty angle and looking considerably out of breath. "Sorry to disturb you sir, but you're just who I was looking for." Squall merely gave him a quizzical look, his headache not giving him much room for vocabulary maneuvers.

"It appears that we're having problems with the prisoner, sir." The officer grimaced. Squall inwardly grimaced. One more trouble for his fucking nightcap. The Blonde bastard better be on fire or dying, otherwise this would really not be worth the effort.

The officer showed a very grumpy, slightly drunk Squall through, down god knows how many hallways, passes and doors and into the observation room, where he immediately saw the problem.

Seifer was an arsehole. That was the problem. The knight had somehow managed to break out of his handcuffs and was proceeding to lounge across the interrogation table like he owned the place, whilst having insult wars with the man pointing a gun, whilst the other guard told him to get the cuffs back on. Honestly, what did he train these men for? Midwifery? They were about as effective as telling Selphie to calm down.

Squall sighed and left the room, blocking out the noise of the officer babbling about it not being safe for him to enter the interrogation room. Luckily for him, he didn't need to, as the door was slightly ajar. He'd have to reprimand the one in charge later for that. Giving Seifer any ideas about escaping were not needed.

"Look, F.O.O.D! I'm not asking you to find a fucking amoeba on a tick's ass." The irate knight ground out.

"Later, Mr Almasy, please stop-" The clearly more responsible SeeD tried to reason.

"Eat shit, cock-bag." The other SeeD waved his gun at Seifer, and threw something furry, and very dirty looking at the knight with all the force he could muster.

"Mitch! Stop that! We're trying to-" Squall barged through the door cutting the officer short, albeit with a little wobble due to the alcohol.

A stinking dead rat. It lay limp in Seifer's grasp, who looked up at Squall after finishing staring at it dispassionately. They stared at each other.

Seifer hadn't changed at all, perhaps a bit more rugged than before, stubble showing up on a normally clean-shaven face, and perhaps more tanned than previously, which made the scar across his forehead and nose look comparatively pale to the rest of his honey brown complexion; the picture of physical fitness. If Squall would let himself feel jealousy, this would be the moment. He himself had been forced to trade in his gunblade for the pen the vast majority of the time. Apparently as commander, he was too important to go on missions, too important to skip the paperwork and far too important to risk himself getting injured in the training grounds. Not that anything could stand up to his power anyway, even if he was out of practice. Looking at Seifer now bought it all home; how long it had been since he had felt that rush of adrenaline? How much time since he had last felt LionHeart in his hands, felt at one with her? The pen did not suit Squall, but it was his duty. The gunblade did suit Squall, but apparently he was above it now. He abhorred it. Detested it. At least Seifer was free of loathsome responsibility. But _someone_ would have to do his job; it might as well be him. Though he'd never admit it out loud, garden was his whole world now, no matter how damn difficult it could be. He cared, and would never willingly abandon it. That was his knight's code. And he had stuck to it, just as the Blonde had stuck to his own and had been condemned for it.

Seifer looked honestly surprised at Squall's presence, but quickly resumed an increasingly wide smirk, dropping the dead rat on the table, and standing up, making as if to bow at him.

"Well if it isn't the ice princess herself!" A deep chuckle rolled out of him. "To what do I owe this_ pleasure_?"

Squall made a point of ignoring him. "You. Explain." He addressed the SeeD who thought rotten rat was an adequate meal for a captive, his voice dripping with annoyance.

The SeeD in question gulped, "I-I-I! He was- he was…"

Squall looked him dead in the eye, to which the man seemed to shiver. "I suggest you apologize and leave." He glared with full force. "You will be demoted for this breech of protocol. Go." The man bowed and apologized to the other warden and to the Commander, and then left. Seifer looked annoyed at the lack of apology to him, but settled for a rather sarcastic; "You could've taken your trash with you", to which he looked at the dead rat on the table and then to the remaining SeeD stood next to Leonhart with a judgmental gaze.

Squall sighed. "Case files." He ordered the Seed who had led him in, who promptly handed him a clipboard with an impressively thick wad of paper. He flipped through the pages, scanning over the incidents. Since he was here already, he might as well get it over and done with. Seifer wasn't going to be any more appealing in the morning. Seifer, for one, was still amazed how Leonhart could make men twice his size quiver in fear with just a look. He briefly wondered what it was like to lick the commander's jewel encrusted princess shoes before scoffing at the remaining guard and plastering a smug grin across his face.

"Leave." He ordered. When the SeeD protested about his safety, he merely gave him a piercing glare, to which the man shut up instantly and power-walked out the door as fast as his legs would go, shutting the door behind him. Seifer made the sound of a cracking whip, which Squall supposed was meant to be funny. He sat down at the other end of the table, still reading the file at his leisure, as Seifer watched his every move.

"Don't I even get a 'hi', your royal iciness?" Seifer smirked. Squall twitched but chose to ignore him, hoping Seifer hadn't noticed his tipsy or agitated state. If he had he was saving it as verbal ammunition for later. "Oh come on, No decent food, and I can't even get a conversation around here. What kind of joint you running? And I hear music. Where's the party?" Seifer was a bit pooped he couldn't crash whatever bash was going on upstairs, it would be pretty fun to see some of the horrified faces…especially if he managed to convince everyone that Squall had invited him. Yeah, that'd sure kick up a shitstorm. He could imagine the headlines now, it'd be like inviting Ultimecia to the kiddies school play, or- uh, something along those lines.

"The SeeD acceptance ball." Squall answered absent-mindedly, scanning over the files further. Seifer was pretty surprised the Balamb Lion had answered at all.

"Aw, what a shame. I bet chicken-wuss would have been happy to see me." Seifer smirked. "So why ain't you up there now, eh, puberty boy? Or is it _you _whose desperate to see me?" His eyebrow was cockily raised, the mirth in his voice making Squall's hand want to reach for LionHeart, who he reminded himself, was absent from this meeting. Seifer looked the brunette up and down. "You look worse than the rat. They making you work nights?"

Squall knew, with a grimace, that the idiot was right. He was paler than Shiva herself, with bags under his eyes rivaling the sandman, and if Seifer would allow himself to think of the body located under the stiff SeeD uniform, he'd guess Squally-boy had lost a truckload of weight. Furthermore, the trusty gunblade that previously never left Squall's hip was nowhere to be seen. Pitiful.

"No. I work nightly out of my own choice." Squall stated, pretending to read the files whilst secretly sizing the larger man up. This could only go one way.

Seifer barked in laughter. "I get it! So you're an office bitch now! Bet poor old Rinny feels hard done by, she always did like an action-man." Seifer shifted in a way that threw his crotch forward in a highly suggestive manner. Squall tried not to feel intimidated by him. Naturally it didn't work.

"I wouldn't know." Squall ground out, flicking through he final few pages before going to the top and starting again, trying to take some of it in this time. Why he was answering Seifer back, he never knew. Perhaps it was the alcohol; perhaps he pitied the man, knowing what kind of death-sentence was probably coming for him.

Seifer openly gaped at him. "You're telling me she's been throwing herself on you, and you haven't tapped that? Seriously? I mean, she might be annoying as fuck, but she's one hell of a good lay, even if I do prefer something with a better rear and bigger hooters." He chuckled darkly, thinking of a million and one things he could say to wind Squall up. A thought occurred to him, which made his grin grow wider.

"So, basically, you're down here when you could be up there dancing the night away with darling-sweetheart-Princess-blabbermouth."

Squall tried to read the same paragraph for the third time, not paying attention to where Seifer was going with the vey one-sided discussion. "We're not lovers." He muttered warningly, glaring at Seifer's feet on the table.

Seifer pretended to be shocked. A guise Squall could easily see through. "You're serious? Well I bet she wants to be lovey-dovey with commander ice-queen. Which means that right now, if you're here rather than up there, you prefer my company over hers." He finished smugly. Squall gave him an incredulous look (incredulous for Squall, that is), and forgot to pretend to read the file. Then another thought occurred to Seifer. "Are you gay?" The blonde quickly got his acting skills out the rusty toy box in the back of his brain, and took his feet of the table, leaning over it as if weary of him. "Cause I don't go in for all that jail-mate crap, so don't get any fucking ideas."

Squall really looked at him like he was stir-fry crazy now. Finally he had got a reaction from the brunette. Now he was getting somewhere.

"I don't know where you bought your brain from, Almasy, but you better take it back, it's plainly defective." Squall summed up with a huff and went back to his file. Seifer's internal demon was howling with glee.

"Yeah, but my Gaydar definitely ain't got a problem, and right now you and Dincht are showing up loud and clear. Probably a good job you haven't got LionHeart with you. You'd probably get off playing sword-fights with me, eh, princess?" Squall's hand twitched. Now Seifer was paddling up shit creek without a canoe. Finally Squall managed to take in some of the paragraph, and his head cleared a little. And a little was all he needed.

"You've been charged with murder, assault, grievous bodily harm, theft, and a number of other crimes against several governments across the continent. Not to mention association with a sorceress of evil." Squall stated matter-of-factly.

Nuh-uh. The ex-knight wasn't falling for that one. Squall could try and hide his annoyance behind jargon all he liked, but Seifer would win, no matter what he would win. This was all the pleasure he could derive from the moment, he'd be damned if he was going to pass it by.

"Shame, if I'd thought of adding sodomy to the list I'd probably be most wanted by now. Real shame. That I'm not gay, that is." Seifer intoned sarcastically, pretending to relax but watching Squall like a hawk. "Oh, go on, tell me how much Galbadia are offering me for my ever-loving 'services'". The commander did not miss the eyebrow wiggle or the suggestive overdramatic licking of lips from the knight, nor did he miss the boots sliding towards his own under the table. He stayed rock still and glared in full force at the man across from him, enough to make any other person or beast on the face of the earth flinch, but not Seifer. Never Seifer.

"Don't play games with me, Almasy." He glared, keeping his eyes trained on his face as the larger man leaned in closer.

"Oh, but puberty-boy, _playing_ is such good _fun._" Squall snapped, and leapt up, fury pulsing through his veins.

The only problem was, fury and alcohol really don't mix. _Really_ don't mix.

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><p>The ground is hard.<p>

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><p>"Leonhart! Open your fucking eyes now or so help me-" Seifer growled from somewhere above him.<p>

Wait –

Since when was he on the floor? Hyne, that light was bright. He noted he must get the light bulb replaced in between the great throng of thoughts running from the freight train that was currently slicing through the middle of his head. His throat felt dry, hands shaking, head pounding, and Seifer was kneeling over him looking _worried _of all things. Today really was a sick, twisted nightmare. Of all the reasons he could have ended up on the floor, Squall would have hoped it would be Seifer knocking him down there, not fucking fainting. He groaned and sat up, before feeling light-headed again and slumping back. His stomach growled.

"You really are a piece of work. I hope you've got more than fucking rats to eat around here, otherwise I can see why you'd go hungry." Seifer spat.

"Commander! Get away from him, scumbag! What did you do?" three guards rushed in, obviously having been watching through that one way-window. Seifer frowned. Of all the times they chose to hold grudges, why was it in the moments when he was actually being somewhat helpful? One of them rushed at him with some kind of metal spear that he probably would have called a weapon, had it been any fucking use. He grabbed the end, twisted and threw the guard off the other end. Now, in his hands, a metal pole was a damn useful thing. The other two seeing his newly acquired weapon, left Squall's side and charged at him, one with some form of short sword and the other with a vast array of very sharp looking daggers. Luckily for him, spears were longer than daggers or swords, and after bashing one around the head and jabbing the other in the groin with the blunt end, there were four men laid out on the floor. Seifer's work here was done. He sat heavily back down on the chair. This would be the moment, were he a smoker, to have that lucrative victory cigar. He grinned smugly observing his work, until he spotted Leonhart struggling to get up.

"Hyne Princess, is the pain from that icicle up your ass finally getting to ya?" Seifer smirked, but his face fell as he watched the commander. The Balamb Lion was trembling, yes, fucking _trembling_. He looked worse than the puke he was undoubtedly going to hurl very soon. Seifer almost felt sorry for him, though Leonhart's weakness meant he was undoubtedly the strongest physical combatant in Balamb right now. "Y'know, with you in that state I could pirouette out of here without breaking a sweat. But then again, fucking with you is much more fun than dealing with those weaklings."

"I have no intention of fucking you." Squall ground out, leaning against the wall waiting for the faintness to die down. He nearly grinned when he saw Seifer's eyes bulge, an emotion which was apparently, not lost on the knight.

"Wow. You've cultivated a sense of humour while I was gone. Any amusing jokes for me, ice queen?"

"Only the one sitting in front of me." Squall retorted, before his brain could kick in to keep his mouth shut.

"Holy shit Squall, Not only a sense of humour but it looks like you've grown a backbone. Or maybe it's just that icicle?" Seifer grinned, before looking about the room at the guards who all seemed to be in some odd daze. He hadn't hit them that hard, had he? Well, maybe with the exception of the crotch shot, he'd totally meant that one to hurt.

"I don't have time for this Seifer. If you're going to go, get out now and run." Squall ground out. He honestly wasn't sure why he'd said it, and he was sure he'd regret it later, but to hell with it. Right now, all he could think of was his bed. He was pretty sure he'd thought earlier about reprimanding people who gave Seifer ideas about escaping. Ah well, it was time for a demotion anyway.

Seifer for one, looked like the dead rat had asked him for a fried banana salad. "You gone crazy after all that pen-pushing Leonhart? The whole fucking garden has spent the last year looking for me and you're _letting _me go_?_"

The commander stared at him. "You don't want to go?"

Seifer frowned. "This is some fucking _weird_ reverse psychology Princess. And yeah, I want to go, but it's 2'oclock in the fucking morning right now and the chances of me getting a decent lay now is zilch." Seifer slumped back onto the chair, crossing his arms and staring at Squall incredulously. "Plus you still have Hyperion. I'm not leaving without her."

"I know." Squall stated, as if it had been what he was counting on the entire time.

"Shit-eating Hyne." Seifer grumbled. "What's a guy got to do?"

"Pretend that he's kidnapped me, retrieve Hyperion and then run for the hills." Squall listed, feeling less stable by the second. He wasn't even sure if the words coming out his mouth were his own anymore. His head was pounding, and for some reason he thought he could smell oil. Seifer grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Shouldn't have told me that." He said, standing up and swaggering his way to Squall, before hoisting him up onto his shoulder in record time. The knight was surprised at the apparent weight of the Commander, that is to say, feather-light, a sack of very bony feathers.

"Urgh." Squall felt himself retching. "Seifer…" His mouth felt like a cave full of trash.

"You throw up on my coat and I'll demand you personally make me another one, _Commander._" He said patronizingly. What in the world gave him the idea that Squall could sew? "So where is she?" He questioned, referring to Hyperion. Leonhart bit back bile and delved through his inebriated memory banks.

"My room." It all he could say without being violently sick over Seifer's back.

Seifer growled. "This better not be some kind of ruse to get me alone Leonhart."

He was about to say; yours is the last ass I'd tap, but surprisingly found his hand already resting on the commander's pert little backside, and it seemed quite happy to be there, so he shut his mouth before his too sharp tongue got the better of him.

_Damn, I must be desperate. _Seifer thought quietly.

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><p>Just so you know, I spell humour the British way. IT HAZ A U.<p>

Please read and review and Cookies shall come unto thee~! And not browsing cookies either!


	3. Confrontation

**Onwards! To chapter 3. Things start getting a bit more serious here, so if my writing style shifts a bit I do apologize in advance. I also have another apology to make, for the increasingly long update times, but unfortunately, work before play(ing with Seifer and Squall). Thank you guys for all your reviews, and I'm terribly sorry I haven't replied to every last one of them, please don't think I am not eternally grateful! In my pants.  
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><p>Seifer watched with a strange mix of curiosity, disgust and worry at Squall bent double over the sink, looking paler than normal, which Seifer was sure should be classed as something whiter than white. Perhaps he should invent a new colour name, like LilySquallWhite, or WhitershadeofSquall, or something equally ridiculous.<p>

When he began to feel sick himself he quickly paced back into the dark hall area of Squalls apartment, as they hadn't had time between arriving through the door and Squall retching to turn on the lights. The knight flicked on the switch and took a sweeping look around the room. The hallway, in fact, was not a hallway, but a large combined kitchen and dining room that had previously been lost in the darkness. He immediately got fidgety. The whole place was bare. Bare floorboards, a simple table and a single lonely chair at the table, and a small kitchen unit hosting a fridge a cooker and a few bare faced cupboards. No TV, no books, no personal touches. Nothing. Not even a rubbish bin, no sign of any discernible mess. Seifer immediately got that hospital vibe, where everything was so squeaky-clean and bleach smelling that he could feel the gel in his hair draw back in disgust.

Seifer grimaced. All of this smelt fishy. There was no way this could have been Squalls apartment. The commander's apartment would be undoubtedly bigger, and even Leonhart couldn't fail to add at least a personal touch here or there. He stalked past the bathroom, throwing a glare at the oblivious, still retching Commander, and threw open the only other door in the small place.

Squall's bedroom.

Seifer breathed out, relieved. Hyperion was respectfully laid on the dresser-top, LionHeart close beside it. The room was just as clinically clean as the rest of the flat. The bed looking like it hadn't been used in months. Seifer quickly crossed the room and snatched up Hyperion, sheathed her and then stalked back out, feeling more unnerved by the minute.

Of course, when one tries to go too fast in these things, one inevitably makes mistakes, like knocking into a sick commander who was just exiting the bathroom, which considering the general health of the said commander, might cause him to topple over, which might also prompt the not-so-automatic reaction of keeping the sick person upright before they injure themselves further. Which might also ironically look like one person was trying to give the other a hug. Also ironic, is the fact that Seifer seemed to enjoy his heroic hug-commander-save. And that bitch called coincidence had the door slide open at precisely that moment.

"Squall! Seifer has…!" Quistis gaped, for a very long, very uncomfortable moment at the pair. "…You in an awkward position." She finished, as Squall regained his balance, made a show of shoving Seifer off and glared at his second in command with all the icy force he could muster. Seifer just chuckled at the commander's reaction. He checked Hyperion, took a long look at Squall who was still glaring daggers, and made his decision.

Sauntering toward the door, he threw a smug grin at Quistis, tempted to add a comment like "jealous?" at seeing her hidden envy at his being so close to Squall, but held his tongue.

"Where are you going?" Quistis nearly spat at him.

"Well, the party's been fun Trepe, till you crashed it that is. I'm out of here." He smirked, unconsciously stroking the hilt of Hyperion lovingly, which to Quistis, looked like he was warning her against using force. She scoffed, and instead looked to Commander Leonhart for action.

"Aren't you going to stop him? The guards downstairs say they heard you help him. If you let him go you'll be detained, arrested or even stripped of your position if the jury judges you guilty of assisting a criminal." She ground out before Seifer could step out of earshot. Her words had the desired effect and he stopped rather warily a few feet behind her.

Squall sighed. His actions earlier hadn't made any sense to him either, so how he was going to explain his reasoning to Quistis? Something about locking Seifer away simply felt wrong to him, even if the blonde was a shit-eating, Hyne-damning, sexy, irritating, loathsome…_sexy?_ _It's the drink, the drink, the drink_. He supposed deep down he felt the obnoxious blonde didn't deserve it. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud to Quistis, or anyone else for that matter.

"I couldn't stop him, even if I tried." Squall turned away from her and calmly made his way toward the bedroom.

"What the hell does that mean Leonhart?" Seifer barked at him, trying to hide confusion at Leonhart actually backing down, behind a nice healthy dose of anger and annoyance. Things didn't feel right around here anymore, especially since his eyes, despite the serious situation, bypassed the not unattractive form of Quistis Trepe and landed smack _bang_ on Leonhart's ass as he swayed away. Fucking _swayed? _Did those guards throw magic mushrooms at him as well as dead rats? Or was the dead rat just a product of the mushroom induced hallucination? _Fuck, _Seifer, _fuck._

"You were right Seifer. I'm just a pen pusher now." Squall had to grit his teeth and clench his fists saying it, but he hoped it would be reason enough for them both to back off. He'd trade the world to free himself from his position if he didn't feel obliged to stay as commander for the sake of garden. He didn't like it, but people looked to him to do his job properly, and something in him just couldn't let them down...Yet somehow he was willing to let go of that responsibility just because Seifer was probably going to be dead in a week—Squall inwardly cringed. He also hated admitting Seifer was right. A year ago he would have scoffed at the idea of himself being sat at a desk 24/7 and waved it off as impossible. The thought made him feel sicker. He clapped eyes on LionHeart, who lay calmly on his dresser in front of him. He _ached_ to touch her, _yearned _to feel her within his grip, _longed _to feel the air close in on him and the adrenaline course through his veins. The feeling homed in on him so intensely now; he was_ sick_ of sitting at the desk all day, and how he had managed it for all this time was still a mystery. He wanted to be back out there, and though he hated to say it, he'd rather Ultimecia come and end it all now than endure this for another year. If he did get the position taken from him, they were welcome to have it. He must've completely shut himself off from all sentiment in order to get by with this huge feeling of discontentment. On second thoughts, that was exactly what he had done. _Hyne._ He resisted the intense temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Seifer, was quite frankly, ready to dig his own grave and adopt a life of celibacy. Wait. That was utter bollocks, but a description depicting extreme shock would do just as nicely to describe his gobsmacked face. "You're fucking kidding me. Balamb's fucking bad-ass commander deciding to roll over and let me tickle his belly before allowing me to waltz right out of here after his leg has had a good twitch?" Quistis looked jealous as hell before realizing it was metaphorical and blushing furiously in shame. Even she would admit the idea of Squall's leg going shaky at being tickled was adorab—_Wait,_ Seifer's brain told him, _stop riiiight there._ He cleared his throat before his brain could roll on any further. " And I don't even get a fucking fight? This is just peachy." _Like Squall's ass—_Fuck off, fuck off, bad thoughts. Brain engage, dick deflate. Seifer pouted almost childishly.

"So no fight, no food, no party crashing, you interrupted my session with my favourite beer, interrupted me in my process of attracting a lay-mate, and now I'm being subjected to the most anti-climatic reunion of the century." Seifer summarized, waving a hand to emphasize his extremely relevant point.

Quistis spoke up. "You forgot the bit where Selphie kicked your-"

"Not relevant!" Seifer growled, which stopped Quistis' blush and made way for an under-the-breath chuckle.

Squall turned. "If you want something more climatic, go find Rinoa. Then you'll solve both our problems." He hissed, head still swimming. He saw Seifer's chin hit the floor and Quistis look more than pleasantly surprised at the admonishment. Naturally, she was also the only one with her head in proper working order out of the three of them.

"Squall! Don't tell him to go crash the party! You'll loose everything!" Quistis whispered harshly (above the discernible pleasure of having Rinoa slandered in front of her), presumably to just Squall, however it made Seifer flinch unconsciously.

"Party-crashing? What a great idea Trepe, don't mind if I do!" The Almasy grin grew exponentially across Seifer's face. He turned to walk out, then paused momentarily, and Squall saw an idea turn in the back of his head. There was no way this was going to work out in his advantage. Seifer turned back, his Cheshire grin nearly splitting his face. "Well, if I'm the guest of honor, the host will need to introduce me, right Leonhart?"

Squall knew instinctively that this was not a question that should be answered with words, and instead made a staggering break for LionHeart in the direction of his bedroom, his brain screaming every profanity he knew as he ran. Seifer saw the move, and gave chase, cackling as he dashed. Oh the _fun_ he could have fucking with the beloved Commander. Unfortunately, even the off-kilter Squall managed to reach his gunblade before Seifer could reach him, though by the time he'd snatched her up and turned, Seifer was on him, pinioning him back on the dresser, the hand holding his weapon trapped by the weight of the knight's torso. The blonde was still grinning manically, which to the swimming vision of Squall looked like some kind of scary-movie clown. He almost laughed hysterically.

"Seifer!" Quistis appeared in the doorway looking flustered and assessing the compromising situation the commander was in. "Get off him!" She pulled her whip from her belt and held it, as threateningly as Quistis could, in Seifer's direction.

"Aw, C'mon Trepe, don't ruin my fun. I know you're jealous it's _me_ on top of him, but I'm sure if you ask nicely after I'm done you'll get your turn." Quistis went a shade of puce red, and nearly forgot to look angry and threatening. Seifer's shit-eating grin only intensified, taking in the flustered headmistress as his primary source of entertainment. Squall's vision cleared, and he saw that dangerous smile and those devilish green eyes above him glint at Quistis. Bad move. Seifer could humiliate him, take him down with him, but there was no way he was touching anyone else without his express permission.

Seifer only realized the counterattack had been staged when he found himself reeling backwards, one hand on his forehead. Squall slumped against the dresser, trying to regain his mental capacity after headbutting the most thickheaded idiot in all garden history. His head felt heavy, and not just from sacrificing several million brain-cells to the cause of getting the blonde off him. He managed to drop LionHeart back on the counter and make it to the bin before his knees gave out and the contents of his stomach emerged with startling vengeance. He gripped the bin with one hand, much like how he was holding on to the last dregs of his sanity. _Fucking Seifer Asshole Almasy._

The knight found himself sat on the Commander's bed strangely craving ice cream, when the most god-awful smell permeated his airspace. Ironic that the hospital-like flat now smelt of vomit. Seifer for one, was strangely absorbed in the sight, having never really seen Squall look anything more than mildly flustered in terms of sickness levels. He supposed there was some psychoanalytical reason for him finding this so interesting, but having grown up with the reticent brunette and never having seen him ill, laugh, or much of anything really, he supposed it was because of the rarity of the situation. At least while he was finding puke interesting, he didn't have his eyes clapped on the Commander's backside. _Oh for fuck's sake, _he needed to get laid, and soon by the sounds and direction his thoughts kept taking.

"Jesus Leonhart, and for a second I thought you were putting on the whole sick act. How much ink have you been inhaling from all that pen-pushing?" Seifer was impressed that Squall even took time out from in between retching to shoot him a pointed glare. At least some things stayed constant in life. Quistis was quickly to the rescue, kneeling down and rubbing circles on the Commander's back soothingly. The knight rolled his eyes, and stalked out, for some reason irked by the display of affection between co-workers. He quickly found the kitchen and began the process of looking through each of the cupboards for something Squall could digest without hurling up again. The first two cupboards were totally empty, and after opening the rest of them he found the whole kitchen to be following in the same vein as the rest of the apartment. _Fucking empty_.

He growled, filled one of the few glasses sat in a clear cabinet with water, and progressed to the bathroom. Again, there was nothing useful in there either; no pills, potions, nada, nil, nothing, zilch, _Zippo. _Seifer, by this point was grinding his teeth in annoyance. He stormed back into the bedroom, making a pointed note of ignoring the garden-governing pair past slamming the glass on the dresser near Squall's bent-double head, and made it his personal mission to start throwing open draws and cupboards. It was only by the end of Seifer's property crusade that he realized that there was nothing bar a few meager pieces of clothing and a gunblade cleaning kit to throw out of all the storage space. He immediately turned on the two huddled in the corner, meeting Quistis' indignant gaze and glaring at the back of Squall's head, as he downed the glass of water that had been so rudely presented to him.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me if you're saying that you actually _live_ here." He ground out, honestly frustrated that he owned more stuff than Leonhart did, and everything he owned was kept in his pockets. That was seriously saying something.

"What were you expecting Almasy?" Squall questioned edgily, placing the empty glass back on the dresser and not looking at him. He couldn't quite place the anger in Seifer's speech.

"At least a sizable make-up and tiara collection befitting such a right-honorable princess." Seifer spat, heavy irony lacing his voice. "And at least some fucking food to keep you half-alive for the next time I want to wipe the floor with your pansy-ass." _A very nice pansy-ass it was too. _Not now. "Trepe, what the fuck have you been doing with dear old Squally-boy here? Feeding him gourmet air?" Quistis suddenly looked very guilty, and Squall had that angry glint to his eyes. Obviously he was doing his antagonists job well, which was a thin disguise for the subtle flood of worry that rolled underneath his ceiling of obnoxiousness. Seifer was almost tempted to ask what they'd done with the real Leonhart, except no other human alive could glare at him like the one he was on the receiving end of currently. No other on the planet had balls rivaling his when it came to sheer barefaced determination, and that was what he liked about Squall, or at least, what he used to like about Squall, till that determination started looking through paperwork with a cup of hot cocoa and half-moon spectacles and abandoned all it previously knew in favor of a woman's secretary job. Seifer decided rather suddenly that he liked the idea of Squall in a secretary's getup, including the suspenders, until he blanched and put his careering thought-train back on track. Princess, whatever he was dressed in – _mind out the gutter Almasy – _needed to be given his balls back. And he was certainly the best man for the job, but to be quite frank, he hadn't the time between now and when the authorities (excluding the ones he was currently sharing a room with) came nipping at his heels.

Seifer ground his teeth. "You guys have flat lost it. I'm out of here, your stupidity might be contagious." He waved a hand dismissively, turning away.

"At least we know where the infection originated from." Squall muttered, shooting a look at the blonde's retreating back, half wanting to say think you for the glass of water, half wanting to throw a nice swipe from LionHeart at him. Squall sighed as a small niggle in his heart got the better of his head.

"Good luck Seifer." He muttered, giving up on glaring at the knight's back.

The addressed man stopped dead in his tracks, his brain slowly processing the newly acquired information. He turned around very slowly, ogled the Brunette still squatting next to the dresser and shot a questioning look at Quistis, asking some unknown question that was currently unknown to everyone but the knight, which he seemed to think quite obvious. When neither of the Balamb overseer's gave him the information he sought, or even understood the silent question he was asking, he huffed.

"Okay, first question; who are you and what have you done with Squall Leonhart. Second question; why the _fuck _would you of all people wish me luck when you've basically just fucked yourself over for letting me bugger off?" Seifer pointed accusingly, adopting an expression that clearly suggested Squall was bat-shit raving mental. Quistis actually felt surprised that Seifer knew Squall's full name without adding in any of his usual derogatory nicknames, but she supposed the occasion of general all around surprise called for it.

On second thoughts, Squall thought, the asshole didn't need any luck. He was already stronger than most everyone out there, and he himself didn't seem to know where he was going, so there was zero chance of any strong, organized army turning up in the right place, unless of course Seifer just happened to feel like having a field day in the enemy stronghold. Squall would have to remind the obnoxious twit of that fact later - if there was even going to be a later.

He sighed, stood up and walked toward the doorway that Seifer was currently occupying with the intent to exit the room and clear his head.

"No way princess, answer the question. You can go get your glass slipper off of Prince Rinoa after the ball is finished." He got a strange kick out of implying that Rinoa wore the pants in their relationship, and for a moment attributed it to the fact Squall had a nicer butt than Rinoa, before he checked himself and resumed normal service on Almasy airwaves…except…Squall's ass seemed to be a reoccurring programme at the moment.

"Seifer," Squall ground out warningly. "Of all nights you want to play wicked step-mother, tonight is not a good one."

"Well I might even get you to eat the damn poison fairytale apple, which is better than Goldilocks over there can do." Seifer gestured in Quistis' direction, who was now also standing, feeling rather ignored up until that point and watching the verbal tennis with a look of dumbfounded amusement.

"Wrong fairytale, now move." Squall cut in.

"You would know wouldn't ya, twinkle-toes? Now answer the damn question." Seifer grinned.

"Yes, I would know. Selphie and Disney. I've answered your question. Move." Squall raised his eyebrows, seeing Seifer's cheeks puff up in frustration.

"Not that question. What's with the 'good luck' thing?" Squall pursed his lips into a pale thin line before settling on the most appropriate answer for the situation.

"Good luck. That's it." He shrugged and shoved his way past the blonde and into the corridor, still unconsciously clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. How was he meant to answer a question he didn't really know the answer to? Was he not allowed to do spontaneous things once in a while, or did everyone think everything in his head was thought through and calculated?

"Stop bullshitting me princess. What the fuck is up with you?" Seifer yelled after him. He was aware he was making a big point about two tiny words that meant comparatively nothing, however it was like the sticky bomb on his mental defenses. Lifetime rivals don't just suddenly turn around and give each other good tidings, _or start admiring each others hips for that matter… _

Quistis coughed uncomfortably, guessing the reason behind Squall's sudden words, making the knight remember her presence and give her a swift look up and down.

"Uh, Seifer, they've…they've put the death penalty on you." She stated quietly.

The room froze. Squall stopped but didn't dare look around. Seifer's eyes were wide, looking right through her and Quistis lowered her head to hide her eyes behind the rim of her glasses. None of them wanted to admit it, but Seifer was part of the orphanage gang, and not even Zell was entirely comfortable with just letting him strut out in front of a firing squad. And Squall, despite being Seifer's most prominent rival, was not heartless or cold enough just to let the aggressive, useless, reckless, attractive idiot die, and he was especially uncomfortable with him dying by such an…_uncharacteristic_ method. Seifer just wasn't the man to take punishment standing still. Mind you, he wasn't the type to take punishment at all; he was far more likely to be the one dishing it out, as Squall remembered not so fondly from the 'glory days' of the disciplinary committee.

Seifer's mouth opened and shut a few times before he gave up on speech all together. His eyes seemed to glaze over and he made his way like a gormless ghost to the single chair that lined Squall's barren dining room table. Quistis quickly averted her eyes from the sight, but Squall's gaze was still directed at the vacant body currently sitting on his only chair.

Death penalty? _Death _penalty?

Well, it wasn't like Seifer hadn't seen it coming; it's just hearing it out loud was…difficult…to swallow. The worse part of it was, he wasn't sure whether or not he deserved it. Ultimecia's tricks had either fucked with his head so badly that…or he just…well…he just…secretly wanted to kill everyone. He gulped unconsciously, hand stroking Hyperion's hilt like it was his link to sanity. Why the hell didn't he get out when Squall was busy puking hairballs? He had thought all of it was fucking fishy to begin with, yet…he couldn't help but feel sorry for Squall. What great irony. He was the one about to have holes shot through him, and he was feeling sorry for Squall? Well, the commander was about to get demoted for allowing him to make a speedy retreat, and to get assaulted by the press…and get whipped by Prince Rinoa…and get an earful off Quistis…and have to listen to Selphie and chicken-wuss…and probably die from some kind of eating disorder.

And – he looked forlornly at Hyperion – never feel the touch of the one thing that made Squall the true Balamb Lion.

Seifer suddenly came to a sudden, abrupt and ingenious decision.

Quistis visibly shuddered when Seifer stood up with all the force of Hyne behind him, knocking the chair backwards. His face was fixed into a frown yet his eyes glittered, as he marched like Rinoa when she was on her happy-lady-time, and much to Squall's surprise, he didn't head for the front door, instead opting to turn toward the bathroom. There was no way he needed a shit that badly. Squall followed him with his eyes, watching every small move the ex-knight made. The man acted like he was impervious to fucking reality, at the rate he was going.

Seifer passed the bathroom door, and with cold horror, Squall realized just what Seifer was after.

"No! Leave-" Squall tried to stand as his ajar bedroom door was barged so hard the upper hinges were ripped from the woodwork, and Seifer, in one fell swoop, snatched up LionHeart and it's case from the counter, and turned to face him, face still frowning, but somehow his posture spoke of cocky victory. Typical bloody Seifer.

"You." The blonde said, emphasizing every word with a shake of LionHeart's case. "Are going to fight me." He finished, adding a small, but eternally smug grin on the end.

Quistis stood up right behind Squall, and with an irate huff, blew her hair out of her eyes. "Stop playing games Seifer, we're in enough trouble as it is without you making a scene."

"On the contrary Trepe, I haven't been this serious since I cut up Princess' pretty little face over there." Seifer answered, raising his chin, grin growing wider and brandishing his own scar like it was a trophy.

Quistis, thankfully, remained totally silent. Seifer could feel the thought churning behind the commander's blue-grey depths. He could see Squall trying to work out what Seifer's plan was, but it was too brilliant, too brash, for the lion to think of it. His smirk only grew.

Squall finally broke the stalemate silence. "Why, Almasy? What would it achieve?" He said, standing up straight, and raising an eyebrow.

"Heh, don't worry Princess, you always did talk better with your blade than you did with your mouth." He saw from the corner of his eye, Quistis reaching for her whip. "Don't try it Trepe. It's not something you would understand."

Quistis went red in indignation, but dropped her hand nonetheless. "Well by the looks of it, Squall doesn't exactly get it either!" She looked quickly at the commander and opened her mouth to speak, but was met with a sight that made her eat her words.

Squall was staring, with a longing look, right at LionHeart's case.

Seifer only seemed to grow more conceited, which had been previously thought impossible. He chucked. That was a bad sign. "C'mon, Leonhart. What have you or I got left to loose?" He seemed assured of his victory.

There was a thick, stifling silence. Squall's eyes fell to the floor in thought. Just when Quistis was about to make her move, Squall looked up again meeting Seifer dead in the eye.

"No."

Seifer, frankly, looked livid.

"Not like this." Squall added. Before either of the blonde occupants of the room could ask what he meant, he began to remove his dressy commander clothes. The knight and the headmistress became instantaneously slack-jawed.

He shed the layers covering him quickly, and Seifer had to hide his anger and lacings of embarrassment when he saw the state the Balamb Lion was in beneath his layers. His ribs were very visible against taut, painfully pale skin, yet somehow, despite the lack of mass, his body held such a distinctive curve that it would have bought any lesser man to a blatant blush. Luckily Quistis was in the room to prove she was the lesser man, as she promptly flushed so red Seifer thought it would dye her hair. He would have laughed, had the snake in his pants not stirred to life, back with a pulsing vengeance. Squall walked to his cupboard and bent double, exposing an ass and thighs that would have made most models go green. He paused, just long enough for Seifer's dick to think that it would be appropriate to march over there and take that ass in front of Trepe, till the Lion stood upright, a familiar pair of leather pants in hand.

Seifer's grin grew ridiculously wide. Squall had no idea how fucking perfect they would look, trying to slice the shit out of each other in their old trademark clothes. Quistis, however, seemed only interested in the fact the view of Leonhart's beautiful body was being replaced with a white tee and his old leather jacket. Squall turned to Seifer, something fierce and wild glowing behind his stoic expression. He held his hand out for LionHeart, and Seifer's smirk dropped.

"I'm sorry princess, it can't play out that way just yet." Squall looked perturbed, face falling into a subtle confused frown. "Let's go." Seifer added, nodding at the door with his chin. Squall frowned further, and Quistis frowned and looked prepared to argue, which Seifer silenced with a sharp look.

"I don't understand what you're trying to achieve Seifer, but this better be good." Squall hissed, before stalking to the door. Seifer watched his hips sway, and grinning oddly, followed after him. Luckily, headmistress Trepe didn't say a word, merely opting to follow after Seifer. Before they got to the door, Seifer stopped, making the commanding officers of Balamb turn to face him.

"Trepe, do us a favor, and whatever happens, don't interfere." He pointed accusatorially at her whip, "leave that here too." She opened he mouth in indignation and looked at Squall, as if to ask for his permission to tell Seifer he was the crown prince of the asswipe kingdom. Squall passed for a second, and gave a curt nod to her, silently telling her to do what he said. It seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

"What the fuck is going on here?" she yelled, hair falling in front of her eyes.

Seifer smirked, also aware that the fact he was getting any co-operation out of Squall was nothing short of a miracle.

"Right now Trepe, we're just going to fight out some tension." He gave her his best radiant grin, and she seemed to redden a tad, must to the inflation of his ego. She shut up properly then.

One thing was for sure, the kicks he was getting out of ordering the higher echelon of Balamb around was well worth the risk of being shot.

* * *

><p><strong>And <em>voila!<em> Srsbsns face. Please tell me what you think. **

**-Until the next time**-


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